Nine months had passed and the nipping March winds were raising the dust and numbing noses and finger-tips in London, while March sunshine was bringing out daffodils and primroses in the country. It was very cold on the river Thames between Putney and Mortlake, but the sun was shining brightly, and a little party on the deck of a steamer, which was making its way with other similar craft to a station near Barnes Bridge, seemed to be quite unaffected in spirits by the keen east wind, for it was the morning of the Oxford and Cambridge boat race. The party on the steamer were all interested in the prospects of one University, but the two crews were so equal that none of the sporting critics had ventured to prophesy the winner in clear and unmistakable terms, and everybody looked forward to seeing one of the best races that had been rowed for years. Surely that short but erect figure, standing in the bows, with a First Trinity scarf showing above the collar of its overcoat and the ruddy glow of health in its cheeks, can belong to no one but Mr. Peter Binney, late of Trinity College, Cambridge! And that ample comfortable form on the seat beside him with a fur-lined cloak and a close-fitting bonnet, well-secured against the wind, must be that of his true and loyal wife, Martha Binney, relict of the late Matthew Higginbotham. Here also are the Reverend Dr. Toller with his wife and daughter, for Mr. Binney still lives in Russell Square, and is once more a valued and important official in the doctor's congregation. Here also are Mr. and Mrs. Jermyn with their son and daughter, the latter attended by the loquacious Dizzy, while John Jermyn sticks close to the side of Nesta Toller, rather to the dismay of Mrs. Jermyn, who, charitable woman as she is, has not taken kindly to that young lady's mother, and is not at all anxious that this acquaintanceship which has been made under Mr. Binney's hospitable roof should develop into intimacy. There are other people on the boat which has been chartered by Mr. Binney for the entertainment of his friends, but we need not concern ourselves with them. There is one very important person, however, of those with whom our story has concerned itself, who is not to be found there. Surely Lucius, and not Dizzy, entertaining as that gentleman's conversation is, should be found by the side of Betty Jermyn! And by her side Lucius certainly would be, if duty and honour did not call him elsewhere. For Lucius has occupied the bow seat of the Cambridge boat ever since they went into practice, and is even now, as Mr. Binney's steamer makes its way up the crowded river, preparing to help launch the frail shell which all those in whom we are interested confidently hope will soon bear him to victory. Mr. and Mrs. Peter Binney are alone for a time in the bows of the steamer. Let us join them, and listen to their conversation.